


Now and Again

by monicawoe



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Gen, Tulip POV, Tulip and Jesse in their twenties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 18:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14243280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monicawoe/pseuds/monicawoe
Summary: Tulip's on the road. She hasn't seen Jesse Custer in years. Not since they were kids...





	Now and Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Jesse and Tulip before Dallas"
> 
> Thanks to my beta quickreaver!

Tulip drummed her fingers against the roof of the car. Six minutes. Those numbskulls had been in there six minutes, and _nothing_. The car's tank had been full two minutes ago, but she had a prime view from here by the pump, so she'd started wiping down the windshield instead.

She let out a breath and ground her teeth, making a pledge that she’d get herself away from those dumbasses before the night was through. She wasn’t about to leave them here, ditch them in the middle of a job. Betrayal just wasn’t her style. But watching them through the windows was making her regret ever meeting Pete in the first place. He was standing by the magazine rack, suspicious as heck, paging through a gossip rag without even looking at it, peeking over at the cashier every ten seconds. And Ben wasn't much better. He'd gone to the back, by the cold drinks, right by the camera. Geniuses, both of them.

Pete finally set the magazine down and went to the counter, shrugging his shoulders in a way he probably thought looked casual, but came across like a nervous tic instead. The clerk smiled, a little too wide, and reached down below the counter.

"Shit," Tulip muttered, dropping the squeegee in the bucket as she hurried towards the doors of the convenience store. She threw one open and walked in just in time to see the clerk aim his gun at Pete's head.

"Go back outside, ma'am," the clerk said, voice admirably steady.

"Oh-oh no! I don't want any trouble," Tulip said, making her own voice nice and wavery. Authentically terrified. "Are the—did you call the cops?"

"They're on their way."

Pete believed the clerk. But then, Pete was a dumbass. Tulip saw the way the clerk's brow was beading sweat, and the way his hands were slipping ever so slightly on the grip of the rifle. If he had an alarm, he hadn't pushed it, or it was busted. Half the time, those things didn't work anyway.

"I'll call them too, just in case," Tulip said, adding an audible gulp for good measure.

"That'd be good. Just get on out of here, lady. Pay phone's outside."

Tulip made for the door and then paused, spun on her heel to face the clerk again. Avoiding eye-contact with Pete, she walked straight to the counter. "Can I borrow a quarter?"

The clerk stared at her in disbelief.

Pete tried to make his move, predictably, and grabbed the gun by the barrel. The clerk fired a round that missed Pete by a mile, shooting straight up into the ceiling. Plaster rained down, Pete stumbled back, clutching his hand; he tripped over a shelving unit and landed on his ass. And then he pissed himself.

That was all the distraction Tulip needed. She vaulted up onto the counter, tore the rifle out of the clerk’s hands and whacked it against his head. After making sure he was down for the count, she moved to the cash register and popped open the drawer.

Near the back of the store, there was a sound. An oof, like somebody'd had the wind knocked out of them, another oof, a couple of grunts of pain and the thump of a body landing hard on the linoleum. Tulip moved to get a better look at the mirrors in the back and saw Ben sprawled spread-eagle on the ground.

Tulip crouched down behind the counter and grabbed the clerk's rifle off the floor. But it was empty, and hell if she knew where he kept the shells.

"Wait, wait, don't—" Pete stammered.

"Don't what?" the stranger's voice said. But for a stranger, he sounded damn familiar—sounded a hell of a lot like...but it couldn't be. Could it? Tulip stood up just enough to peek over the edge of the countertop. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him.

“Jesse?” Tulip asked, stepping over the unconscious clerk. It really was Jesse. He was taller, ganglier, and his hair was a mess, but it was him. It’d been ten years since she’d last seen him, running after her, when child protective services had come to take her away. Thanks to his no-good preacher father.

Jesse swiped his hand under his nose, smudging the trickle of blood. “Tulip?” He smiled with red-stained teeth. “What are you doing here?”

She shrugged. “A job.”

“A job?” Jesse's eyebrows shot up. "Robbing this place?"

"You know this guy, T?" Pete asked.

"T?" Jesse mimicked, chuckling.

"Cram it," Tulip said. But her lips curved despite herself. It was nice to see Jesse.

"You get the money?" Pete asked.

Tulip nodded towards the register. "Help yourself."

Pete hobbled over to the register and grabbed a fistful of fives and tens. He didn't even lift the drawer. Dumbass.

"Come on, we gotta go!" Pete said, tugging at Tulip's arm.

"Go on, then."

"What—but—you're our ride."

"Find somebody else."

Pete looked like he was about to say something, but thought better about it and went out the door instead. Didn't even ask about Ben.

"The guy in the back," Tulip asked, "he gonna be alright?"

"He'll be fine. And he didn't do nothing, so, unless he's got a record, cops'll probably let him go."

"If they even show up."

"Why are you running around with those guys? They don't seem..."

Tulip rolled her eyes, partially at Jesse and partly at the question itself. “Yeah, I know. Never mind. Gotta go, Jess— it was good seeing you.”

“What? Wait a minute—“ Jesse stepped in front of the door, blocking her. Sort of. She‘d push his sorry ass out of the way in another minute.

"He may not have called the cops, Jess, but I ain't hanging around to find out."

"Okay, what if we go get something to eat?” Jesse dared to smile a little. “I'm starving."

"Deal."

#

“So what you been up to, Jesse Custer?” Tulip dipped her French fry in the ketchup they’d squeezed out onto the empty burger wrapper. “Heard you were in Angelville.”

Jesse opened his mouth like he was gonna answer and then slammed it shut again. She wouldn’t have thought much of it, except she caught the little tells—that tiny wobble of his chin, the way his eyes got bright and glassy for a half second. Just long enough to know that whatever had happened, it was bad.

“With the L’Angelles,” she prodded further. “Part of the family business.”

He looked down, scuffed the toes of his shoes against the dirt. “They ain’t my family.”

Tulip watched him a beat longer. “They looking for you?

There was that chin wibble again, and his hand trembled when he brought it up to mess with his hair. Hell. What had they _done_ to him?

“Not yet, but...if I’m not back tonight, they’ll come looking.”

“Well, seeing as how I’m done with these jerkwads...wanna hit the road?”

Jesse blinked up at her. “With you?”

“No, with the Easter Bunny.” She grabbed his hand, stood and pulled him towards the car. “Yeah, with me.”

“Where’re we going?” Jesse paused by the passenger side, still looking dazed. It was gonna take a long time before he told her what'd happened, if he ever did.

Tulip unlocked the car. “Haven’t decided that yet. Highway ain’t far, but all we gotta decide once we get there is north or south.” She slid behind the wheel. “Don’t really matter which to me.”

Jesse climbed into the passenger seat and hesitated a second before he pulled the door shut. But when he did, it had the sound of finality to it, a cog sliding into place.

The engine purred as Tulip pulled out of the gas station onto the dusty road. She couldn’t help but notice how Jesse kept his eyes steadily on the rear-view mirror. But they were alone on the road, and they stayed that way, together in comfortable silence. ‘Til that silence got too boring for Tulip and she flicked on the radio.


End file.
